Fun in Prague

For those of you short on time/attention, here is the concise version, by Toby:

Got in earlish Friday and could not sit next to each other on the plane. Got to the hotel and a nice room with a big pole in the middle and no view due to the kitchen. Then found the super market and ate opposite the church. Went back to the hotel and snoozed. Went out that night and walked along the river, found the market square and ate in the restaurant having nice beer, food and I had boar. Saturday lots of walking we went to the amazing church, saw the strange statues, ate our yucky sandwich at the river, went to the Communist museum. Went to the pizza place opposite our hotel got smoked out in the clubs. Sunday back to the markets bought some presents, ate that big fried dough thing, saw the pigs on a spit, chess boards and had a nice walk around. Felt a bit done and went home :)

And for others who like long-winded descriptions and aimless musings, here is the extended version, by Dot:

I have wanted to go to Prague for a long time, ever since my friend Lara sent me an email during her gap year (a good 8 years ago now) saying what a wonderful city it was. So when we were planning a year in the UK, Prague was always at the top of the list of places to visit. I’m glad we finally did, even though in some respects it was a slightly disappointing trip.

We took the day off from work and were looking forward to a sleep-in before our flight, because sometime between booking the trip and checking the flight confirmation on Thursday, I had convinced myself we had a lunchtime flight. In actual fact we’d booked ourselves on a 9.30 am flight. No matter. Check-in at the airport went well although as we were a bit late, we were put on seats across the aisle from each other. Luckily it was a very smooth flight and I didn’t need to hold Toby’s hand once. However, it was a boisterous flight – Prague is firmly on the stag weekend circuit in the UK and we had lots of upbeat people on the plane (some of whom were already drinking at the airport, yuck). I was lucky enough to be seated next to a couple who seemed to be on their first dirty weekend together – first they giggled for about an hour, then they snogged for a good ten minutes before falling asleep. Toby got a chronic cougher/sniffler next to him. I think we were glad to get off the plane.

At the airport we got some money out (Toby had been told by ‘everyone’ that the Czech Republic only uses euros, just for the record, this is totally not true) and then found the desk to buy tickets for the bus. The man was very helpful and told us how to validate them. Sometimes public transport tickets can be tricky to work out, hence why we sometimes just don’t bother. I’d done a bit of research on how to get to the city from the airport so it was easy enough for us to get a bus into the city to connect to the metro for our hotel. The suburbs of Prague reminded me a lot of Berlin, I guess it’s that Communist love of grey square buildings coming through. Luckily when we got off at the metro stop for our hotel we came out (after going up an escalator I thought was unusually long – Toby thought I was being dramatic – but I read later that it’s one of the longest in Europe – more than 2 minutes from top to bottom) into a beautiful square (Namesti Miru), with a massive church in the middle and gorgeous buildings all around us. It was a lovely way to start our trip. I should mention here also that the sun was shining and although it wasn’t exactly warm (we needed our jackets) it was much more pleasant than Edinburgh's neverending wind.

The loooooong escalator. Hello vertigo.

Our hotel was less than 5 minutes walk from the metro (even though it took us a bit longer to find it of course), in a nice residential district called Vinohrady. There were lovely buildings and we could see plenty of restaurants and bars, which pleased us. We were able to check in and then because we were starving, we decided to go to the small shopping complex over the road to find food. There was a swanky looking wine bar/café in the middle of the complex but the menus looked complicated (there was a lot less English in Prague than we expected) so instead we went downstairs and luckily found a supermarket. We stocked up on bread rolls, cheese, ham, fruit and water and took it all back to the park at Namesti Miru. We had a very leisurely, relaxed lunch sitting in the sun watching the people and the pigeons and generally enjoying being outside eating good food, something we hadn’t done for ages. We tried to remember the last time we’d eaten a meal outside. I think it may have been breakfast in Amsterdam, back in September. Gotta love the Scottish weather.

After lunch we went back to the hotel for what was supposed to be a short rest/freshening up but turned into a three hour nap. I guess we were tired. Seemed a waste of a fine afternoon in such a lovely city, but the big bed was just too good to pass up. Around 7 pm we ventured out and took the tram to a stop closer to the river. I’d read that the Charles Bridge was worth a visit at night – less crowded and great views of Prague Castle. So we walked up the river quite a way, but it really wasn’t necessary to go all the way to the particular bridge – you could see the castle from the whole bank anyway. We did go about halfway over the bridge, which is one of the oldest in Europe and has been decorated with some fantastic sculptures over the years. And the castle did look amazing all lit up like that. After admiring the view we headed into the Old Town, in search of dinner. Old Town Square looked great at night as well, if a little ghost town-esque with all the Easter market stalls closed up in the middle. We wandered some of the streets, doing some window shopping and thinking about where to eat and finally found a little place in a courtyard just off the main square. It served Czech food, it had some words in English (but not a menu in eight different languages like some of the giant hotel restaurants we’d passed), it had a couple of empty tables and best of all – a no smoking sign in the window. Brilliant. When we went in, the first thing we noticed was all the dead animal heads on the walls, and the gun above the bar. ‘This is a lovely room of death,’ as Ace Ventura would say. Never mind. Food is food, and nobody in there looked like the sort to actually use a gun on tourists. (Unlike the pathological villains in Hostel 2, which we had (stupidly) watched the weekend before.)

We ordered goulash with dumplings (for me) and a boar kebab with fries (for Toby) and two ‘large’ Czech beers. By ‘large’, they meant ‘bucket’, but the (cute) waiter conveniently forgot to mention this to us. He probably thought it was hilarious that two pale, not-giant people were ordering that size. It’s all part of the fun of travelling, and luckily it was pretty good beer. They also brought us a basket with enough bread for four people, which seemed odd at first but since the food took quite a while to arrive, it went down pretty well. Toby’s boar kebab was actually only one (not two like the menu showed), but he told me it was good (not really enough to share). I loved my goulash which had a nice peppery kick even though the ‘dumplings’ appeared to be more like circular slices of warm, moist bread (I have since discovered that these are what the Czech call dumplings - so I wasn't cheated). It sounds gross, and they weren’t what I was expecting, but they soaked up the goulash well and it was all tasty. I didn’t manage to finish my beer – the waiter pointed to what I had left and told me that was a ‘small’. Oh well. I tried. After that we got the metro back to the hotel and collapsed.

Toby and his bucket of beer.

In the morning we ate breakfast in the hotel, which was a nice change from the usual stale bread and yoghurt we eat while travelling. There wasn’t a huge selection but that’s okay – I kept thinking of the massive buffet room in our hotel in Kuala Lumpur but really, who needs to be faced with that much food in the morning? They had a room set up in the courtyard of the hotel, no windows (luckily, otherwise our room window would look straight into the dining room) but the whole roof was a skylight which made it lovely. I decided I want all my breakfasts in a skylight room from now on. The funny thing that happened was when an American guy came in and obviously knew the two girls sitting behind us. At first I assumed they were friends, later on I realised they had probably just met in the hotel breakfast room previously. The girls were sitting at a table for two – no room for anyone else, clearly. The guy asked if he could sit with them, and they said yes, and then the three of them sort of just stared at the tiny table, the lack of a third chair, and finally the guy said, ‘Actually I will just sit here,’ and took a seat behind them. He continued to talk to them even though they weren’t really that interested and finally they said ‘Okay well we’re finished, bye,’ and left. Funny Americans, trying to be friends with the whole world. At least he owns a passport I suppose.

After breakfast, we picked up some pre-made sandwiches and water from the supermarket and then headed off for the day. First on the list was St Nicholas’s Cathedral, which I’d seen voted as Prague’s number 1 attraction on a random website. On our way we came across a crazy tourist street full of things tourists love (like McDonald’s, and jewellery shops) and also the Kafka museum, which we really only noticed because of the sculpture out the front of two men peeing into a pond. It really was eye-catching and if we’d had more time and/or money we probably would have gone to the museum as well.

I suspect only naked Eastern European women would have done a better job of convincing people to go into this courtyard.

St Nicholas’s certainly didn’t disappoint; you bought your ticket in a little alcove and there was a swinging door so you couldn’t see inside, no knowing what you were actually paying for. But once through the door, it really did take your breath away. The first overwhelming sense I had was of gold and pink. There was a lot of pink marble and a LOT of gold. It really was an incredible church. We spent some time sitting in the (very wooden, very uncomfortable) pews just looking up. Even Toby, who is not keen on intruding upon others’ places of worship, thought this was a brilliant way to start our time in Prague.

The alter in St Nicholas's.

After the church we decided to take advantage of the fine weather and find somewhere to eat our sandwiches. We ended up in a park by the river eating the most disgusting sandwiches ever. I have a love-hate relationship with sandwiches; when I was small I made my parents’ life difficult by complaining about what they were putting in my lunch box every day, and that is how I came to be making my own lunch when I was seven (or so). I have never been keen on sandwiches which have been made by someone else, several hours earlier, without my presence, with ingredients I can’t identify. I am getting better now – I can make reasonably edible sandwiches myself, even hours in advance, and I can eat most pre-packaged ones which is lucky as they are everywhere here. However, these Prague ones were an insult to the humble sandwich. The word ‘Waldorf’ in the title should have clued me in, but how was I to be prepared for a filling that comprised stringy chicken, sour cream, and DICED APPLE? Many of you will know my (recently relaxed but still in place) policy against meat and fruit together. This sandwich confirmed the reasoning behind the policy. It’s just not on.

Toby struggles through his Waldorf sandwich.

With stomachs churning we crossed the Charles Bridge and walked across with all the other tourists; it was very different, full of people and stalls selling caricatures, photos and jewellery. We were glad we’d seen it the night before, empty and kind of creepy, since it takes on a real tackiness during the day. We ended up in Wenceslas Square where we bought ourselves some delicious sweet things. Very hard to describe but basically they make a dough, wrap it around a pole, cook it over a fire, pull it off the pole, then roll it in a cinnamon sugar mixture. What you end up with is like a thin donut that’s crunchy on the outside. Mmm, delicious. How the Czechs aren’t gigantic balls of lard rolling around those quaint cobbled streets I will never know.

Enjoying our nutritious snack. You can actually see a picture of it on the stall behind me.

From the square we found the Communist Museum. It had also been voted as a top attraction, and being that neither of us can claim to know much about Czech or Communist history we figured it would be a decent place to spend some time. The museum was on a floor in a casino building and was rather brief, but the funny posters alone were worth the effort. The interrogation room was also rather scary. I’m not sure I learnt much more about Communism (except how much the museum curators abhor it) but it was an interesting hour or so.

One of the posters tempting you into the museum.

After the museum, we decided to be lazy and get the train back to our hotel, which apparently was within walking distance. We rested up and then got dressed and went out again to try and find a restaurant mentioned in our guide, Bumerang. We have never been to an Australian themed bar anywhere on our travels and (for some reason) Toby decided we should. Unfortunately something went amiss in the address vs map war and we couldn’t find it. By this time we were hungry and it seemed silly to try and find somewhere to have a drink when it was really time for dinner, so we went back to the street where our hotel was and got a table at a pizza restaurant over the road which had been mentioned in the guide. It didn’t have a no smoking sign but luckily no one in there was smoking anyway. We ordered drinks – smaller ones this time – and pizza for Toby and gnocchi for me, both of which were plentiful and tasty. And cheap! Less than £10 for the both of us. Bargain.

After dinner we wanted a night cap and decided to try a few places in the immediate vicinity; one turned us off by making it sound more like a brothel, so we went to a tiny little one further down the street. We got Bailey’s and I’m pretty sure we were laughed at due to our odd habit of paying for drinks at the bar, but who cares? Unfortunately it was very smoky so we just drank and left, then we tried another place but the same thing happened. So it was an earlier night than we were prepared for, but a good end to our day.

The next day we had our nice hotel breakfast again and then back to the room to pack up before checking out. We weren’t sure what time we had to leave but figured if breakfast was until 10am then check out would be later. Yes? No. At four minutes past ten the phone rang and it was the snarly receptionist girl saying ‘Yes we ask you to check out now please.’ Um, okay. When we got to the front desk and apologised for our tardiness she acted like it was fine and she didn’t know what we were talking about. Strange. We decided to go and see Prague Castle in the morning, so we got the train to the tram stop and then tried to buy a new ticket. Which didn’t work, because the ticket machines didn’t take notes (even though their currency is all gigantic and you only really used notes) and the people didn’t sell the tickets we wanted. A rather strange system, so we decided to just risk it with the old tickets we had. We got on the tram with about 100000 other people and I wanted to get off at the stop mentioned in the guide book, where you started at the Strahov Monastery and then walked down to the castle complex through a beautiful residential district. I was watching all the signs but then everyone else on the tram got off too early, and I was a sheep and followed them. We got into the castle area but I was annoyed that we’d missed the monastery and nice walk, so we decided to get back on the tram and go further up the hill. It was the first time we’d been on a tram going uphill and it wasn’t pleasant. I don’t think trams like hills. The monastery was lovely, all white walls and beautiful courtyards. And the views were spectacular.

Inside the Strahov Monastery (complete with priest!) I couldn't help thinking that maybe I would be holier if I had somewhere like this to stride through on my way to things...

...and a view like this to wake up to.

We walked down the hill towards the castle but unfortunately missed the entrance and so we had to walk up these steps instead.

Yeah, ouch. The castle complex had a lot of buildings in it but by this point we’d had enough of paying for entrance fees and decided to just appreciate everything from the outside instead.

For lunch we went across the river (yes, the Charles Bridge again) to the markets in Old Town Square, determined to get some fattening fast food. We decided to forgo sausages in a roll (had lots of that in Berlin) and went for the pizza type things we’d seen other people eat. Essentially it’s fried dough, and you can have it with cheese and/or garlic and/or ketchup. I had cheese and garlic, Toby decided to go the whole hog. It was an interesting, greasy experience. I only ate the outside of mine, the middle was kind of cold due to the cold cheese. We also got another one of those donut things, because they were that good.

Toby enjoys his fried dough.

And here is when things start feeling…done. Toby had been fighting a cold all day (he blames the sudden flaring up on the cigarette smoke ingested the night before), so energy levels were not at their best. After time at the castle and surrounding streets, Charles Bridge and Old Town Square, Prague was starting to feel…crowded. Really, really crowded. We sat down on a wall by the clock tower and were soon approached by a lady with missing teeth asking for money. We said no and continued our conversation but she took a while to leave us alone. Things started looking dirty, and poor, and generally icky. We were tired, and out of money, and wanted to be far away from all those people. So we did what you would never think was possible, before you have travelled and you are still in that naïve phase where you think it’s impossible to actually get bored when you are somewhere like Prague: we went to the airport. Way too early.

The flight home was also full of chatty, loud buck’s night groups and it was delayed (which made our early arrival seem even sillier) but we got home in the end, slightly disappointed by our final hours. So for people who want to go to Prague: go during the week, and NOT when the Easter markets/any other festival is on. And make the effort to get away from the crowds. The best times we had were when we were in places that hadn’t been overrun by other people.

Since then things have been fairly quiet on the Edinburgh front. I went out for a Mexican dinner for my friend Carole’s birthday, and on Saturday we went to a fondue party for one of Toby’s workmates. I managed to catch the cold Toby had in Prague so have spent the last week nursing a sore head and wishing they sold butter menthols here. We have discovered the farmer’s markets and enjoyed our first fresh fish in months (yay). We are starting to think more about our Europe ride and also looking forward to visits from parents, starting with mine who arrive on Easter Monday. We won’t be doing much for Easter, but there is a possible trip to the zoo planned and of course I plan to indulge my chocoholism with relish. Toby doesn’t eat chocolate anymore, so I might boil him an egg for the occasion.

In Dublin fair city

Last weekend I had my first experience of travelling overseas all by myself. True, it was only an hour's flight and when I got there they still spoke the same language (almost) and ate the same food and watched the same TV, but the currency changed and I would have been pulled up quick smart if I'd dared mention it was the same country, so it still counts. I went to visit my lovely littlest sister Ali, who arrived there a few weeks ago following months of adventures in Peru and Ecuador. It started on Friday night, with Ali meeting me at the airport to make sure I got the 1.90 euro local bus into town rather than the 8 euro rip off tourist bus. She took me to her hostel which had a great location right on the river near Temple Bar, and then we went in search of food. We ate burgers and chips and fizzy drink in some place called Eddie Rocket's which is trying to be like an American diner from the 1950s. The weirdest thing about it was the toilets which were so far above the floor that my feet didn't reach the tiles. I know what you're thinking, but Ali's much taller than me and even she found them high.

Ali admitted that she always feels lame for ordering Fanta, but I admire her for being herself in the face of public ridicule.

After that we went to a pub in Temple Bar and had a Bailey's each and listened to some guy playing U2 and other songs, and because I'm a nana, we then headed back to the hostel. Ali's dorm mates were all dressed up and ready to go out but we'd decided to save our energy for Saturday night, so we put our PJs on and went to bed. It was my first experience sleeping in a dorm as well, and although I handled it fine for two nights in an all-girl space, I'm not sure how I'd go (a) for weeks or months at a time, or (b) sharing with rude smelly boys. I need a good nights' sleep to function properly. The first night we were woken up at some ungodly hour by one of our fellow (slightly drunk) girls ringing her mum back in Australia to tell her she'd lost her camera at the pub. The conversation did not go well. After she ended that call she went through her bag and realised her wallet was also missing, which warranted another tearful phone call home. I felt sorry for her; it's bad enough to lose those things but her mum obviously did not feel sorry for her at all, which made her more upset.

Ali doing her night time stretches on the dorm floor. Because I grew up with the same father, I do not find this strange at all.

The view from Ali's bed, across the Liffey to the Fourcourts area.

In the morning we joined the throngs of people taking advantage of the free breakfast; we both ate as much as dad does, in order to fill up for the day. It was really busy, being a weekend and late-ish in the morning; so busy in fact that when I came back to our seats after getting some toast, the French bloke at the same table had stolen my chair AND the map we'd had spread out. He apologised but it was still weird. Very French though. We decided on a vague walking plan, and headed off into the freezing cold, Ali without a jacket (but I didn't say anything, not wanting to be the bossy big sister).

Corpus Christie was first on the list...it cost 5 euro to go in, so we didn't, but we admired from the outside.

Then we found St Nicholas's, which was tucked away behind big brick walls in the middle of a very ordinary suburb. I loved it because it felt exactly how it must have 100 years ago.

After visiting multiple churches (in memory of our darling nana) we headed to St Stephen's Green, which is very pretty and relaxing even when it's freaking cold.

From St Stephen's Green we went to the National Museum of Archaelogy and looked at things like bowls, crosses, Viking jewellery and the most memorable, peat bog bodies. They really threw me, especially the one where the facial expression was still clearly visible. The man was very obviously thinking 'help, I'm in a peat bog.' Some of the bodies were headless or armless but it was quite amazing what they were able to figure out from what was left, like how old the person was, what they last ate and therefore what season it was, what they were wearing and therefore where they stood on the social hierarchy, and so on. Really it leaves CSI looking pretty ordinary.

After the Museum we went to Temple Bar to find the food market. Ali had mentioned it the night before as somewhere good to eat, and that morning one of the Aussie girls in the dorm had been saying it was one of the highlights of her week. So it seemed a must-do. Because there were 2 of us we decided we could buy lots of food and share it, so we had a very expensive and very delicious duck pie, some deep fried spring rolls and an Italian version, and then the very best brownie in the world. The brownie was a meal in itself...it was quite a challenge to finish it, even between 2 of us we had to give each other little pep talks to get through it. After that brownie we needed a rest so we headed back to the hostel for a cup of tea and relaxing game of Connect 4.

Ali trying to warm up with a cup of hot apple juice, served with a shot of apple brandy. Mmm.

We headed out again around 4pm, thinking we would go and see the Oscar Wilde and Molly Malone memorials and pick up some dinner to cook at the hostel. By this time it was dark (of course) and raining pretty heavily, so we only made it to Molly and then decided we would just go back to where it was warm and dry.

Ali and Molly Malone. Mum and Dad used to sing us the song when we were little so she has a special place in our hearts.

After dinner we got all dressed up in our finery and headed out to Temple Bar. We went to The Temple Bar (I know, how long did they take to come up with that) which was all decked out in Christmas decorations. It was really crowded but we found a corner, had some drinks and what-not, and then decided to find somewhere else. On the way it transpired that Ali's feet were killing her in her new Peruvian high heeled boots and my tummy was not agreeing with me, so back to the hostel it was for pyjamas and an episode of Charmed in the TV lounge.

All prettied up. Ali's head is not that big in reality.

I had an early flight so we got to eat breakfast without having our chairs stolen by any French people and then Ali walked me to the bus stop, where we realised the timetable in the hostel had been wrong and we had a good 20 minute wait ahead of us. It was freezing and dark (of course) but some nice taxi driver drove past and rescued me and another guy there who was going to the airport, so we got there a lot earlier than we would have otherwise. He was heading home to Minnesota, where it was going to be even colder. I was not jealous in the slightest.

Ali by the river, waiting to see me off. It's 8.30 in the morning here. I love this climate.

Other than that very brief trip across the water, things are fairly quiet on the Edinburgh front. I've lost my boring job at Scottish Widows so I'm now on the look out for something else; I don't hold much hope at this time of year but at least I have Christmas to look forward to, and I'm determined to be at least as good a housewife as Toby was when he was at home. I already have plans to wash the kitchen curtains. I think that's the kind of thing housewives do.

A birthday weekend in Paris

Soon after we decided to come and live in the UK for a year, I announced to Toby that he could take me to Paris for my birthday. We’ve been to Paris before, on our whirlwind backpacking trip a few years ago. Because I’d gotten all cocky with our ability to find hotels of our own accord, I’d cancelled our hostel reservation so the first thing we had to do was find a hotel. Which we did. It was horrible, very small, very crampy, and smelt strongly of smoke. The next morning we’d checked out and headed to an Internet café to find something better. Due to a very inaccurate map (this was in the days before Google Maps, our new best friend) we spent the next 5 hours or so trying to find another hotel. Did I mention it was raining and I was wearing my new beige suede shoes? You can imagine how they looked after that adventure. So that was 1.5 days spent in Paris, gone. We went up the Eiffel Tower, visited the red light district (ostensibly to view the Moulin Rouge), and saw the Mona Lisa so we didn’t completely waste the trip. But I have always felt we missed out on an opportunity to really experience Paris, which is why I wanted to go again. And a birthday is an excellent excuse.

We headed off around 5.30 on Thursday 1 November, arriving in Paris an hour and a half later. National Novel Writing Month had started that day so I spent most of the trip trying to get my word count up, correctly guessing I wouldn’t have many more chances over the weekend. We got the train from the airport into the city and then changed to the metro to take us to our hotel. How I love the metro. Toby couldn’t stop talking about how it was the perfect public transport system, and listing all the reasons why. The only thing I don’t like about it is the buskers because they never play decent music and I think that’s just rude, because there’s nowhere you can go if you don’t like what they’re playing.

The hotel was a 5 minute walk from the Arc De Triomphe, but the best thing about it was the (partial) view of the Eiffel Tower from our window. At night especially it looked amazing all lit up. It was a very cute, very French room. The weirdest thing was the bath which came with a hand-held shower head, but the wall next to the bath came out at such an odd angle that you couldn’t stand up straight. I ended up just sitting in the bath but Toby, not being that good at sitting, struggled. We needed a little stool, like you get in the Japanese baths. It was very strange but felt like an authentic European experience.

Our hotel (on the left) with the Eiffel Tower. I'm not sure how people knew they were in Paris before they built it. It took my breath away the first time I saw it from the train, coming in at night.

Once we were settled we went downstairs to ask the man at reception where we could get some food. By this time it was after 10pm and we knew there wasn’t much around the hotel that was open. The man told us something about it being Halloween and therefore a lot of things were shut. Weird, especially considering it wasn’t actually Halloween. We finally found this teeny tiny little supermarket and bought some crackers, ham and cheese to have a carpet picnic back at the hotel. Seriously, it is difficult to describe how small this supermarket was. Anyway. That was the first night.

The next day was my birthday, which started with a card from Toby that made fun of my shoe fetish. (I know, how dare he.) It also started with some chocolate left over from the night before, because if you can’t have chocolate for breakfast on your birthday then it’s just not a birthday. We found a bistro not far from the hotel that served breakfast so we found a table. The old man working there didn’t really seem to know English, but that was ok. We’ve gotten a lot more confident with just muddling our way through; French is pretty easy because you can normally figure out roughly what something is. Not like Japan. I asked for an omelette and Toby got a crepe, and some coffee. Easy things to order. The man put a placemat and cutlery down in front of me, plus a little basket of bread, and we both got coffee (which isn’t what we normally drink, but I didn’t want mispronounce ‘tea’). Then I got my omelette. It was the best omelette I’ve ever had; it was just cheese and ham but it was brilliant. Toby’s crepe still hadn’t arrived, and the lack of a placemat and cutlery did not bode well. He was eating all the bread but then we got given the bill and yep – there was no crepe there. I still don’t know how we missed that one, but since the omelette was huge I very nicely let him have the second half. That’s just what I do.

One thing I love about Paris is the flower shops. They're everywhere, and they're massive, taking up so much room. I love what this says about the importance placed on beautiful, natural things.

After breakfast we went to the metro station and waited behind an English woman who was trying to buy some tickets from the machine. She was getting very frustrated; she had some rowdy kids jumping around and her husband was several metres away, looking at a wall map and pretending he didn’t know them. Finally they figured it out and then the guy in front of us got halfway through his purchase and walked away, leaving the instructions all in French. We still got our tickets fine, so I don’t know what the English lady was doing wrong. We took the metro to the Catacombs, which I’d decided was what I wanted to do. Might seem an odd choice for a birthday outing, but really it’s just one step up from when mum and dad used to take us for picnics in cemeteries on family holidays.

The line to the Catacombs was really long by the time we got there. I held our place while Toby went in search of a public toilet which was apparently disgusting and scary (I forget the details). We waited around an hour, which was made more bearable by some tasty crepes we got from over the road. Yum. When we finally got to the ticket window I was amazed because people aged 14-26 got in for half price!!! So I flashed my drivers license and only paid 3.50. It’s been ages since I was considered young enough to get a discount, and even though I’d been feeling a bit down about turning 26, this made it seem ok. The Catacombs themselves were brilliant and we were both so glad we’d made the trip, and waited in line. I found it odd that they’d been open since the 1800s to the public; one reason I think I found it almost normal is because there is no way I would have known any of skeletons down there, or been related to them or anything. But to visit so soon after they’d been exhumed, surely that chance would have been real for some visitors? At first you were really struck by the fact that you were walking through corridors created by piles of human bones, but after a few minutes it felt more normal and you could appreciate the effort and care it must have taken to make it look like that. I wished I had better French; there were lots of quotations and things marked onto the walls which I didn’t understand. It was great though.

Here are some spooky photos of bones and stuff:

After the Catacombs we walked up to the Luxembourg Gardens, had a look at the Palace (only from the outside) and watched little kids play with their sail boats on the pond. It all felt very French. Then we got the metro back to the hotel and went for a quick walk up to see the Arc De Triomphe and Champs Elysees before heading back to our room to rest and make ourselves beautiful for my birthday dinner.





This is my new house, up on the top floor with the views over Luxembourg Gardens.

Two random ladies in front of Luxembourg Palace. Note the green chairs where you can sit and people watch. I can't imagine how crowded this place gets in summer.

More of the gardens. This is the pond where the little kids stick their sail boats. Some smart ass had brought along his remote control speed boat. Talk about ruining the ambience.

The Pantheon, where lots of important French men are buried. I'm not sure where they've buried all the important French women...

I wish I could order a country to build a monument in my honour. Toby was quite taken with the logistics of such a massive roundabout.

Toby getting dressed up for my birthday dinner. What a man.

I’d booked http://www.lecoupechou.com/ which I'd seen recommended for special occasions on the Lonely Planet forums; I don’t normally bother making reservations in foreign countries but I didn’t want us to wander around, get lost and tired and hungry, and end up somewhere sub-standard. The restaurant was tucked away in a back street of the Latin Quarter and you would never find it if you weren’t looking for it. It was in an old building and we were seated up on the third floor. It was a gorgeous restaurant full of little nooks and crannies, complete with open fireplaces. The room we were in was empty except for us when we first arrived, which was a little strange but luckily it started filling up after a while. We had a glass of champagne to start with chose the set menu, with 3 courses. Toby ordered the duck starter and then steak tartare for his main; when he said that the waiter automatically said, ‘It’s raw.’ He is obviously used to tourists ordering steak tartare and then being surprised when it’s not what they expect. Toby had a flashback to severe food poisoning in Japan following raw beef (even though it was because of the water that he was sick) and changed his mind. I got a salad for the starter and then duck confit for my main. The food was great, lots of it, very buttery (even my salad) and French. We shared a bottle of rose wine and dessert was a very rich chocolate mousse and crème brulee. I think I ate most of it, for some reason Toby found the mousse too rich. Crazy. All in all it was a perfect way to end a very delicious birthday.

On Saturday morning we had bread and cheese in our hotel room for breakfast, but unfortunately there was no tea or coffee provided so we had to drink water. I’m not sure if that’s a particularly European thing; I can’t imagine ever getting accommodation in Australia without tea and coffee in the room, no matter how dodgy the place. The first thing on the list for Saturday was Notre Dame. We got the metro (of course) into the city and then walked over the Seine to the Notre Dame courtyard. It is a very impressive building. The line to get in was really long, and it was starting to rain, so we just enjoyed the view from the outside and then walked across to the Saint Chapelle church as well. Again, another really long line so we kept walking and had an explore of the Saint Germaine district. Which is pretty much the quintessential Paris – exactly what you imagine, with the bistros and cake shops, gorgeous boutiques and cobbled laneways. After lunch we got the metro again to go and see the Sacre Couer. The guide book suggested 2 different metro lines to get there, but I could see there was another line that went close by and would mean we didn’t have to switch trains. So we got that one and when we came up onto the street we realised we were the only white people we could see. I’m not sure if it’s officially the ‘African’ quarter of Paris that we saw, but it was like a Chinatown, only African, full of African supermarkets and beauty shops selling hair extensions and skin whitener. It was strange, like we’d come out into a whole different city. A white French man saw us with the guidebook out and told us where to go to find the Sacre Couer – I guess in that area any white person with a guidebook is looking for it.

Looking down the Seine to Notre Dame.

Notre Dame, close up.

Cool Parisian street, with my head in the way.

We had a hilly walk up to the church, complete with many steps, but once we got there it was definitely worth it. The views alone were brilliant, even on a not-so-clear day like that one. There was no line to get into the church so we had a wander inside and then made our way down into Montmartre, being accosted by African men selling souvenirs and wanting to braid bracelets onto our arms the whole way down. I had wanted to have a walk around Amelie-land but somehow we ended up in the red light district. I know, what a surprise. We had a coffee at some random little bar and then headed back to the hotel because Toby needed a nap.

Steps up to the Sacre Coeur.

It is a pretty amazing church.

The views are amazing too. And the best thing is - they're free!!! Although you do have to walk up all those steps...

the Moulin Rouge. Not as impressive in the day time.

That afternoon I went out to the Champs Elysees to meet my friend Amy and her mate Deb, whom many of you will remember from a previous blog entry including a visit to the castle and cocktails made from Moet. Somehow it turned out that they were on their final stop in Paris on the same weekend as we were there. We went into lots of different shops including a massive fancy cosmetics place which I’d read about in the guide book but didn’t want to drag Toby into. It was so cool, but unfortunately very expensive so n

On Saturday night Toby and I went to where Amy and Deb were staying, in Deb’s dad’s apartment. It was quite an adventure just getting there, as the metro line was closed and we had to get a bus which meant we were about an hour late. The apartment was gorgeous, exactly how you’d imagine a rich person’s apartment in Paris, and in an area full of lovely old buildings. Amy and Deb had put on a great dinner so we ended up having a dinner party in Paris, definitely a must-do, complete with amazing little cakes they’d bought at a nearby patisserie. After dinner we wanted to go out for a drink but the nearest place we knew of was an ‘Irish’ pub Toby and I had passed on our way in, so that’s where we went. It was actually more full of Australian paraphernalia (like big flags with Fosters written on them) than Irish, but we had some drinks anyway and then headed home.

Deb, Toby and me at the Irish pub.

Me & Amy

The first Sunday of every month is free museum day in Paris, so we’d saved our gallery trip for that day. Amy decided to join us so we met at the Arc in the morning and then got the metro to the Centre Pompidou, Paris’s gallery of modern art. From the metro we just had to walk up the block and the building was right there, so we joined the queue and sent Toby up to see how long it would be. He was gone so long we started hoping he’d gone off to get a crepe (as you do in Paris), but he said he’d just walked up the line and back again. At least 4 times longer than the one we’d been in for the Catacombs was his assessment. At some point in the line we passed a glass sign that had ENTRÉE written on it, with an arrow pointing around the corner. Then it said ENTRÉE BIBLIOTECH, with an arrow pointing in the direction we were heading. That’s weird, I thought. I pointed it out to Toby, who said that since the ENTRÉE was written in red, that meant it was closed. An interesting theory. After some more time, we decided a crepe would help, so Amy and I headed around the corner to a big courtyard lined with shops and restaurants to find a crepe stand. There was another line snaking its way into the same building, and we briefly wondered if that was where we should have been, but ended up going back to join Toby in the line instead. Finally we passed another sign with ENTRÉE on it, and this time it was definitely pointing in another direction, and that was just three too many signs that we were in the wrong place. It was then we started to realise that there were no loud Americans in the line. In fact, we were surrounded by young French people, many of them reading text books and highlighting paragraphs and writing things in the margin. It was too suspicious. By this time we’d been waiting an hour, but we left the line and headed around to the other side of the building, hoping that none of the people near us had known enough English to realise how stupid we’d been, and how long it had taken us to realise we were in the wrong place.

Sculpture things outside the Pompidou.

More sculpture things.


The front of the Pompidou. Yeah, don't know how we missed that one.

We walked straight in the doors and into the exhibitions, and tried not to think about how much time we’d just wasted standing outside. It was a great gallery and we really only got to see half of it, and not all that much of the half either. Something else for us to do next time we are in Paris. After that, we went to one of the bistros in the courtyard and had croque monsieurs for lunch, because that’s what tourists do. And then it was sadly time for Toby and I to get the train out to the airport, although not before we’d had some yummy gelato.

Saying goodbye to Amy.

So that was the weekend of falling in love with Paris, and if anyone offers either of us a job there, we will not be turning it down. What a brilliant city.

Amsterdam photos

Patience is not my strongest virtue, and because it takes a really long time to put together nice, good-looking entry complete with photos, I've done it separately. And chronologically backwards.

De Waag, originally built as a city gate in the 1400s. It was later used as an execution site and holding cell for criminals. Now it's - what else - a restaurant.

People probably thought we were odd, taking a picture of a kebab shop. But hey.

Amsterdam is full of crooked houses, apparently so that stuff could be dragged up from the canals on ropes without knocking into walls. But this house was crooked in a different way - the left side almost looks folded.

Canal house boats. Cool.

Our hotel room opened into a little courtyard. Then you could take the stairs up to a big wall that overlooked the junction of canals by the hotel - this is one of the views.

Me being a stupid tourist, getting ready to buy some clog slippers.

A good idea of what the red light district is like - bright, garish and unapologetic, but surrounded by cute typical Amsterdam ideas, like red shutters over attic windows.

Another canal shot. Amsterdam is a really colourful city, especially compared to Edinburgh which is basically a city comprised of different shades of grey.

Amsterdam was full of tempting bakeries, something we took full advantage of. This was the most impressive one we saw.

The concert hall, just across the road from the Museumplein. I was particularly taken by the gold harp on the roof.

Toby outside the Van Gogh museum, embarrassed because I made him stand in front of the murals like some kind of tourist.

A giant chess set that's actually being used.